


Spoils of War

by bluphacelia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galra Revolution happens during Modern Earth, Hostages and Jailers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prince Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia
Summary: There was an pulsing red glow somewhere, aggressively filtering through his closed eyelids. Lance groaned. It was too early for this, probably. There was a dull ache at the back of his head and he felt sore all over. What had he done last night? Was there a party? How much had he had to drink? Something felt off. He wasn't sleeping in his bed. The surface was too hard. Too cold. Had he fallen asleep outside again? His mind felt muddled and slow as he slipped in and out of a doze.Lance turned, trying to get more comfortable, but a rattle broke the quasi-calm and jerked him fully awake. He wasn't home. He wasn't even close to home. -- Lance finds himself in an impossible situation. War has broken out between the Paladins of Voltron. The unthinkable has happened and he is useless. Locked away. Helpless. Who will set him free?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another story begins.
> 
> So much credit goes to [teasdays](teasdays.tumblr.com) and [Ian](http://nothingbutawalkinthewoods.tumblr.com/) who pulled me into this fandom kicking and screaming. They now beta for me.

There was an pulsing red glow somewhere, aggressively filtering through his closed eyelids. Lance groaned. It was too early for this, probably. There was a dull ache at the back of his head and he felt sore all over. What had he done last night? Was there a party? How much had he had to drink? Something felt off. He wasn't sleeping in his bed. The surface was too hard. Too cold. Had he fallen asleep outside again? His mind felt muddled and slow as he slipped in and out of a doze.

Lance turned, trying to get more comfortable, but a rattle broke the quasi-calm and jerked him fully awake. 

He wasn't home. He wasn't even close to home. 

He pushed himself up from the cot, in the corner of a small box of a room. It was smaller than his closet back home; maybe six feet by eight at best, and he instantly felt claustrophobic. Everything around him was a dull gray chrome: the walls, the cot, the ceiling, the floor, the single door right in front of him, accented by the red panel of lights low on the walls just inches from the floor. They reminded him of those escape pod lights, when a ship was going down, blaring sirens demanding that people evacuate. _Please, follow the red emergency lights to the nearest exit pod!_

The next thing Lance noticed was the dull ache deep in his muscles, especially on his left side, and he was suddenly very glad he'd been lying on his right. There was a rattle as he moved his left hand - it was cuffed to the wall, the long chain clinking merrily as he moved to pull up his shirt to look at the damage. Everything was a tinged a deep crimson -- as he'd expected due to the only light being the dull red from the emergency lighting -- but the already darkening bruises around his ribs and side didn't look good. He pulled at his shirt and the bruising was visible all the way to his armpits, mostly concentrated between his hip and ribs. It was tender to the touch, but at least nothing seemed broken, and he wasn't bleeding, so things could definitely be worse. If Lance didn't know any better, he would have guessed that someone had kicked his side brutally as he'd lain unconscious. He pulled his shirt back down, wiggling his toes and fingers. Everything seemed to work properly. Looking at his toes, it suddenly hit him that he wasn't wearing shoes. His gloves were also gone, along with his belt and jacket. Otherwise, he was decked in his flight suit, a bit grimy, but intact.

Had there been a fight? Lance couldn't remember. He could barely remember anything after getting up the previous morning -- had it only been a day? How long had he been out?

The chain rattled again and Lance winced as he stood, trying to see the place where the chain was fastened to the wall. He managed to nearly trip over his feet in the process -- the only thing keeping him upright being the chain he grasped onto, knuckles white as his heart stammered in his chest. He felt light-headed and woozy, and bringing a hand to the back of his head, he felt a distinct bump. 

That would explain the disorientation, at least.

It took another five minutes for Lance to get up onto the cot and realize the end of the chain was way too high up; too far to even ascertain how it was fastened to the wall. Lance was still standing on the cot, peering upward, as the blue-white lights suddenly turned on, effectively blinding him.

"What the-" Lance groaned as he covered his eyes, and the door slid open with a small hiss as the air pressure stabilized.

"I see you're awake," a stranger's voice echoed in the small space.

Lance turned, still gripping the chain as he tried to see. The doorway was blocked by the silhouette of a large body. Lance blinked, and there was a distinct purpleness to the man standing there. The figure slowly appeared in full-stereo-color as his eyes adjusted.

"Commander Sendak?" Lance asked, scrunching his brows in confusion. He recognized the man from a few diplomatic dinners he'd attended in the past. He was close to Lord Zarkon. "What is the meaning of this?" There was a distinctive accusation lacing his words. Sendak was the last person he'd expected. Why would a commander under the Black Paladin have him chained up -- chained up in a prison cell, for that's what the room was. A prison cell.

"There has been a-" Sendak looked down as he stood, slightly hunched over so that his massive frame fit into the doorway. He licked his lips as though looking for the correct term, "An altercation, and you've been removed here for your own safety."

"Where is Lord Zarkon! I demand to see him at once!" Lance clutched the chain and pointed dramatically, royally -- he hoped -- happy he was still standing on the cot, as he felt less like a school boy being scolded by the headmaster. Sendak ignored him and straightened, pulling his bulk out of the small space and turned so that all Lance could see was his back. He spoke to someone behind him in a hushed tone -- the speech were rough, commanding, and not in a dialect that Lance had the pleasure of knowing. 

"Don't ignore me!" Lance yelled, and stepped down off the cot, taking the step it took to get to the door. He instantly regretted his move, however, as Sendak bent down again to look at him; his golden eyes were unblinking and unreadable.

"I'm sorry for our poor hospitality, Prince Lance, but there are some -- incidents, that require us to keep you hidden. For your own safety, of course," Sendek said. "If there is anything you need, my -- subordinate, Keith, will take care of your every need."

Sendek started to pull away and Lance felt his stomach drop. "Wait!" Lance choked out. "You can't leave me in this closet!"

"You can uncuff him. He won't be any trouble." With those parting words Sendak was gone, and in his place was another Galra. He wasn't nearly as tall or as broad as Sendak, but he still loomed over Lance, with his large ears and shock of curly hair. He looked about as happy to be here as Lance felt.

"My name is Keith," the Galra said through his teeth, and bent his head in a mockery of a bow. An ear twitched, and Lance tried to peer behind him, but all he could see was a bit of a corridor, and soldiers. Many soldiers.

"You can't leave me here!" Lance screeched, throwing his normal composure to the wind. "Tell me what's going on! Sendak!" There was a hand on his chest keeping him inside, in what Lance finally resigned to think of as his prison cell. 

"I can't let you leave," the Galra, Keith, said, pushing him back inside. There was a key in his hand which he carefully slotted into place, and with a click, Lance was released. 

Lance pulled his hand protectively against his chest. He widened his eyes and looked up at the Galra, trying for his best pleading look. The golden eyes didn't blink, and Lance felt frustrated anger grip him again. "Let me go!" he cried out, his fist hitting Keith's chest. 

The Galra was unmoved. All he did was grab Lance's arms and force him to sit down on the cot. Lance felt his knees crumpled under him as he was pushed down and suddenly all he wanted to do was cry. This was so unfair. "Why are you doing this to me?" Lance asked, pushing down the feeling of despair that was trying to get a hold of him. Where was everybody -- Allura? Coran? _Father_? Why weren't they telling him what had happened? Had there been an attack? Was his family in danger? What had happened to the fleet? Why would the Black Paladin take him prisoner? 

What was going on?

"Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?" Lance whispered, shoulders slumping forward, eyes downcast onto the floor.

"I'm sorry, Prince," the Galra said. "I'll bring you something to eat later." With those parting words the door slid closed, and Lance was left alone with his confused thoughts.

The following days melted together. 

Lance tried to keep track at first, but soon it was impossible. The only indications of time passing were food being brought in by the stoic Galra, lights turning on and off, and trays being taken away, mostly untouched. The few words he spoke to the Galra when he saw him weren't enough, and the few words he managed to coax out of Keith only made him ache for more.

Lance felt the days without bathing more keenly than ever before, the grime another reminder of how long he'd been sitting there, alone. The purpling bruises were fading to a greenish-yellow, and he felt stiff from being in a space too small to walk more than a few paces in any direction. It was driving him mad.

Another day came and the door slid open, like it always did, and Keith stood there, face passive, a full tray in his hands. The food, at least, was top notch. They clearly weren't trying to starve Lance out, but he had little appetite left.

"Keith," Lance said, his voice coming out strange. "What is happening? Where are we? What happened to the fleet? Did someone attack us? Where is the king? What about Voltron?" Lance kept on talking, asking the same questions he always did; hearing a voice -- even though it was his own -- made him feel momentarily better. Lance wasn't expecting an answer. He never got anything more than a grunt or a few pleasantries out of Keith, try as he might. 

Today didn't seem any different, as Keith took the old tray and started to back out. Lance grasped at his arm, desperate for contact, any contact.

"I'm going to go stir crazy in here, if you leave me alone for much longer with nothing to do. All I have are my thoughts and my questions and I can't stand it!" Lance felt his chest hurt, and his eyes burned, hoping the Galra would do something.

Keith frowned, and Lance hated him more than anything. How could he just stand there watching him suffer? This was torture, he knew it was torture. This is how you broke people. Leaving them locked up with no contact, no one to talk to. This is how you drove them mad. Keith narrowed his eyes and Lance wanted to laugh hysterically.

Keith averted his eyes and Lance wants nothing more than to lash out. He deserved more respect than this! Sendak had said to take care of him. This wasn't taking care of him. This was leaving him to rot! "I'll bring you something to read," Keith finally said in his gruff voice and shrugged Lance's hand off his arm before nearly punching the panel that closed the door behind him. Lance stared at the gleaming chrome, trying to process what had just happened. Had he just managed to get something? The cogs started to turn in his head, maybe his prison keeper was more affected than he let on.

The next tray held a small novel along with his food.

Lance kept himself busy. He couldn't really do much in the small space, so he read, did push-ups, dips, anything the small floor space allowed him. He even perfected his wobbly hand-stand, socked feet arching over and hitting the wall less and less. It was on one of those days that Lance felt more confident than normal in his newly found abilities. He'd just gotten his hands on the ground and kicked his feet up toward the ceiling when the door hissed open. Lance heard indrawn breath and something that distinctly sounded like a chuckle before his wobbling stand crumpled and his feet landed awkwardly back on the ground. He looked up ready to be laughed at, only to see Keith look at him, his normal bland expression in place and no amount of taunts and coercion would make him budge. Keith just swapped out the trays of food like he always did, but Lance swore there was a hint of a smile on Keith's face as the door slid shut.

The room became his world, and Keith the only thing that broke the monotony of his endless cycle of days and nights. Lance read more than he ever had in his life. He started to wonder where Keith was pulling all these books from. Did the spaceship have a library of books? Who would do that in this day and age where everything was on a reading device? The books were all different shapes and sizes and the subjects varied - from cheesy romance, to epic space battles, to history, which Lance had always found boring, but now read like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. The books were all consuming; a place of comfort, a place to escape to. 

After three days of talking at Keith about the books he had brought for Lance, he finally got a response. It had already become habit to expect a new book to read at mealtimes, so Lance waited impatiently for Keith to return. The new book he had was about space, the longing for something out there, unreachable, untouchable, and Lance had felt himself tear up near the end as the protagonist finally reached her goal. It was oddly written, from the perspective of a people he didn't quite understand, but the story and the feelings were genuine and he appreciated every word. As Keith entered, right on time, tray in hand and stoic expression in place, Lance talked, like he always did, about the book and the characters, but when he spilled out the longing he shared with the main character, to fly through the air, the feeling of wanting to be free, Keith broke the silence. "I know," was all he said, but it seemed to break the ice between them. Keith still didn't linger, he didn't speak much, but Lance felt the marginal difference in his mannerisms. It was like a veil had been lifted and it made his heart swell with some unknown emotion he couldn't quite place.

Then came the day when everything changed. The day with the _note_. 

Lance had taken out his newest book, A non-fiction depiction of some distant planets in a far-away solar system. The book was full of pictures and the rocky planets and the huge gas giants made him miss Altea even more. He was about a quarter through - reading about the only habitable planet in the system, a small rocky planet with oceans and a blue sky - when a small piece of paper poked itself out from the crease of the spine, jammed in tight, secure.

It was short:

_Don't react._  
_There are cameras everywhere_

Lance felt his eyebrows scrunch up re-reading the note, not quite certain what this meant. It was written in a slanted hand, the words in an old form of common Lance vaguely remembered mentioning to Keith. He swallowed, hands shaking a bit as he turned the page. He continued flipping through the book, but his palms were slick with sweat and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them clean. The next note came ten pages later.

_There was a coup revolt_  
_Zarkon stole the black lion_  
_Two paladins were killed_  
_There is fighting everywhere_  
_You are held as hostage_

Lance felt his eyes mist and his hands shook as he closed the book. He shut his eyes and let his head rest against the wall. It couldn't be real. He'd known Zarkon his whole life. Why would he do that? He was already one of the Paladins. The highest rank possible in the republic. No, it had to be a mistake. He breathed in deep, and his eyes fluttered open again, a new determination filling his very being.

He opened the book again, flipped to the first note, and discreetly tugged the loose end into the spine indicating that he'd read it, doing the same thing for the second note. He flipped through the rest of the book, but it was empty of any other rebellious messages. 

It took every bit of self control for Lance to keep to his now daily routine, waiting -- waiting for Keith. It must have been his doing. The careful scrawl of letters. Lance felt his chest constrict as doubt blossomed. Was his family alright? Were they trying to rescue him? Were they out there, dying for him? And suddenly the ache he'd been able to suppress for so long was back. The terrible pain of loneliness. The need to touch another being. The heart clenching ache to be held and comforted in his mother's arms. Of seeing the mottled blue sky of Altea. Walking barefoot in the grass. Feeling true gravity tugging him toward the ground. The smell of soil. The chirping of animals. A soft touch. Careful word. 

And Lance cried, for the first time since he'd been captured. Tears spilled from his closed eyes as he tried to keep his breathing from disintegrating into sobs. He hiccuped, heart fluttering too fast in his chest. The book he held to his chest like a lifeline, the only thing in his world that was real.

Hours felt like days as Lance waited for Keith. Had it been longer than normal? Had Keith been caught? Was his hope of an ally crushed before it had truly even begun? Lance was nervous and jittery. He felt sick. He hadn't touched any of the food Keith had brought, the warm soup that had smelled so sweet now filled the space with too much of a hearty aroma, making his stomach twist and churn.

Finally, the door slid open with the telltale hiss. Same as always, but the new source of light made Lance flinch out of the half hearted doze he'd managed to coax his body into. He blinked at the usual solid form of Keith who stood there, watching him. There was something in Keith's eyes. A questioning look. Maybe. Lance wasn't quite sure.

He scooted up from the cot, book still in his hands as he held it against his chest.

"I liked this one," Lance said instead of his usual tirade of questions about the outside world and cascade of observations about the book he was returning. "Can you give me more like it?" 

Keith stood there, unmoving. His ear twitched once, and Lance suddenly had an urge to hug him. Lance swallowed, trying to stay still when he wanted nothing more than to move. It was a sudden compulsory itch at the back of his mind and Lance balked. Why would he want to do that? Sure, Keith was an ally. Maybe. The thought warmed his heart. What if Keith could get him out? Could he really be free? They stood there for a few moments, just looking at each other.

"Sure," Keith said, the word soft, so unlike his usual gruff retorts. He placed the new tray on the cot before taking the untouched one from the floor and standing. "You should eat more," Keith muttered, looking down at the food. "You're too skinny. You never know when you'll need your strength." He brought his gaze back to observe Lance, holding out his gloved hand for the book. Lance was loath to part with it, but gave it back anyway. Their hands brushed against each other and Lance was quick to pull away. His fingers tingled as though burned.

"I'm looking forward to reading the new one," Lance swallowed and glanced down at the new book on the fresh tray. It was small and blue. The words "Oceans of the Deep" were printed in silver on the cover.

"I'm sure-" Keith leaned forward, and Lance felt his eyes grow wide. The Galra had never come this close to him before, unprompted. "It'll be educational," he continued, and the grin that broke out was all teeth.

The door slid shut behind Keith, and Lance had to keep himself from launching in on the book. He sat down casually on his cot and picked it up, hands shaking. He flipped through it, but there were no notes inside. 

He closed it, and placed it beside him. This was probably for the best. Keith was being careful. Things must be quite terrible on the outside if Voltron was truly split. What about those two paladins who had been killed? Lance let his thoughts float to his friends and family. They were out there fighting, killing. Maybe even imprisoned, tortured, alone. Dead. Gone. Lance curled up on himself and he had to physically wrench himself out of his thoughts, the book a blessed distraction as he flipped to the first page. 

Days passed. Keith brought more books, devoid of notes. Lance read, ate, and tried to keep his body from turning into a vegetable the best he could. Then just as he was about to lose hope there was another note. The book was another one depicting a small rocky planet somewhere far away, clearly written by the same person who'd written the one about the planets in that solar system. And as Lance flipped through the tales of the peoples who lived there he nearly missed it. The note was tiny, wedged in-between the spine sideways so that the barest trace of the words were legible. 

There was only one word written:

_**Tonight** _

Lance tilted his head and quickly skimmed through the rest of the book, but didn't find anything useful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight.
> 
> Tonight something big will happen. -- Lance anxiously awaits what will happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is some blood in this chapter. Nothing major, but giving fair warning.
> 
> \--Might edit a bit later, if I get a chance.

_**Tonight.** _

Lance had reread the note at least a dozen times already, always flipping back to that page - page fifty-seven - as he tried to desperately focus on the words blurring on the page. Lance had always been a fast reader, usually done with a book before Keith came back with another, but this time his concentration had shattered. He'd barely made it halfway through the book and to be truthful, he didn't remember much. All the unanswered questions plagued him. The note was too vague. It could mean literally anything. What was happening tonight? Another coup? Rescue? And then his mind fell dark. Maybe they'd decided he wasn't useful anymore and would get rid of him. Why would Keith tell him that, though? Could he be so cruel? Wouldn't it just be better to get marched in front of Zarkon and be done with it. 

Zarkon. The Black Paladin. Trusted warrior lord. Leader of Voltron. It had been at least a month since he'd found out about the coup and he still couldn't believe it. He'd known the man most of his life. Why would he do something like this? Lance couldn't understand. His world had been turned upside down. The peace Voltron guaranteed, destroyed by a single person's actions. It seemed impossible.

Lance stared at the page, words blurring as he pulled up his knees as though making himself small would make him invisible. He glanced at the tray on his cot, untouched and he could already feel the future displeasure in Keith's eyes. He placed the book back down on the bed and pulled the tray closer. The food was lukewarm at best, but he ate what he could stomach. If he were to die tonight he could do it with a full stomach at least.

His thoughts paused as the mental image of Keith frowning at him popped into his head; arms crossed as he scolded Lance for not eating. Lance had realized that Keith's ear tended to twitch when he was irritated and he could already see it clearly in his mind's eye - the blank look on Keith's face, ear twitching. There was a tiny tuff at the end of his ears, not too common in Galra, but it was kind of cute. Like a lynx - a cat species he'd read about in one of the many books Keith had brought him. Lance looked down at the book beside him. He'd read many books about this particular planet. Rocky with blue oceans and a blue sky. Keith kept on bringing him more. Was there some connection he was missing? 

It wasn't long after that the lights dimmed. The overhead clear blue light flickered off and the red emergency lights turned back on. It was officially nighttime again. Lance took the tray and placed it on the ground out of the way. The book he kept and he placed it on the cot next to him as he lay down. He really wished they'd given him a blanket. It was never truly cold in the tiny room, but the familiar weight of a blanket over him, a comfortable pillow, a real bed. Lance sighed. Some nights he would have killed for one of those. He closed his eyes, letting himself imagine he was somewhere else. It was a mind exercise he'd learned as a child, a way of taking yourself out of an unpleasant situation and making yourself calm, grounded, relaxed. _The pillows in his bedroom had always been fluffy, wrapped in white and blue covers, the Altean royal crest embroidered at the edges in perfect blue silk stitches. The mattress dipped, firm but soft. Lance felt the silk sheets, bunching up and rippling through, impossibly soft against his fingers. Sometimes, at times like these, there was someone else next to him - the warmth relaxing, an arm around his waist, fitting next to him perfectly. His breath deepened as he hovered right at the edge of sleep; his imagination holding onto him, tight. He had nearly perfected this, he could almost feel soft curls under his hand. He could almost hear a voice -- almost._

Lance had also taught himself to be awake the moment the door hissed open. The pressure dropped, Lance felt his ears pop, a telltale sign of the door opening. Sleep left him, but he lay there, unmoving, book grasped in his hand, muscles tensing before he forced himself to relax.

A warm hand fell over his mouth and Lance felt his eyes snap open, hands going up to the offending appendage, fingers digging into silky fur. His vision blurred and he blinked, eyebrows furrowing into the best glare he could muster with sleep still clinging to his eyes. Yellow eyes and sharp teeth met his glare for glare.

"Don't speak," Keith hissed into his ear, bent down next to Lance's cot. Their cheeks brushed as Keith pulled away and lifted his hand. Lance wanted to speak. He wanted to ask what was going on, what had the note meant. Why was he here? Keith! Why?

Keith shot him a glare - as though he'd heard what Lance had been thinking - and shook his head; just a single movement, quick and sharp.

Lance pushed his legs off the cot and stood, hand still clutching the book against his chest. The door stood open with Keith right there, looking out. The Galra glanced back again and their eyes met - dark gold against deep blue. Keith stepped once and he was next to Lance, hand gripping around his wrist as he leaned forward.

"Shift," Keith said against Lance's ear and he fought the shiver that tried to escape. Keith let go and Lance bit his cheek. He hated shifting. Keith growled low, just loud enough to hear and Lance swallowed, lifting his hand up to touch Keith's wrist lightly. He'd always found it easier to mimic something he touched. He felt Keith's surprise in the tiny jolt against his light fingers, but he ignored it as he felt the itch spread through him as his skin changed, flared dark, shifted as he grew a soft cover of fur, ears twitched as they expanded and Lance suddenly stood a head taller than Keith, who was watching him, ears flipped back and eyes wide. Lance wanted nothing more than to smirk, but just as he was about to say something he sneezed, the sound echoing in the small space. His sense of smell had magnified and the sudden mixture of old food and stale sweat was overpowering.

The moment was gone and Keith had moved back to the door. He was peering out and with a glance he gestured Lance to follow. The corridor was silent and empty. Then it hit him. He was out. Lance felt his legs quiver as he took that last step to the outside and the door hissed shut behind him. Everything was enlarged somehow, and the sudden exposure made his knees shake. He felt exposed, naked, the walls were too far away.

"We have to hurry, there are mobile guard units doing their rounds this time of night," Keith whispered and Lance could pick it out as though they were having a normal conversation. Lance felt his ear twitch involuntarily and he suddenly wanted nothing more than a mirror as he lifted his hand to his cheek, the pads of his fingers finding fur. "You look fine," Keith growled in exasperation before grabbing Lance by the wrist and pulling him along. "Just a bit more," Keith muttered under his breath, ears flicking forward, listening intently to anything out of the ordinary.

The corridor they passed was lined with doors, just like the one Lance had just walked through, and the horrified thought that each one of those held a prisoner shook him to the core. It wasn't right that he was out and they were left to suffer. What if there were other hostages? He wanted to say something to Keith. He would know. But a sudden explicable fear held him back. Lance felt his eyes prickle as shame washed through him. He wasn't worth this much. 

Lance kept his eyes focused on the ground from there on. 

A door opened and Lance was pushed into what looked like a laundry room. There was a wall shelf of cleaned and pressed uniforms and machines doing their job as a little robot whistled and flew past. Lance watched, amazed. It looked too normal.

"Put these on," Keith said, trusting a red uniform against Lance's chest. "If the size isn't quite right I'll find you a new one." Lance looked at his worn flight suit. It was stretched thin to compensate his sudden growth spurt, but it was Altean made so it hadn't split. "We don't have all night," Keith hissed through his teeth, arms crossed as he vehemently ignored Lance and kept his eyes on the door.

The fit was good enough and soon Lance could almost say he looked the part of a Galra footsoldier. It was more nondescript and plain than Keith's own flight suit; molded to fit him perfectly.

"Grab a helmet," Keith advised and Lance pulled one out, slowly placing it on his head. His ears felt cramped and he shook his head, trying to get used to the feel. 

"There will be more soldiers as we get closer to the flight deck. The flight bay is under heavy security so you'll have to do exactly as I say, do you understand?" Keith was watching him and felt his palms sweat, and not just because of the heavy gloves he was wearing. Keith stood in front of another rack mounted to the wall. He lifted something, a long pole with a knob at the end. It fizzled to life as an angry purple-blue light crackled at the top. Keith powered it down again and thrust it toward Lance.

"I don't know what to do with that," Lance said holding his arms in front of him shaking his head. "Isn't there like a gun or something I could use?"

"What do they even teach Alteans?" Keith growled and thrust the pole back into the pile and pulled out a gun front the shelf above. "Your uniform indicates a ground trooper so the quarter staff would work better for your disguise." Lance accepted the gun, flipping it over. It wasn't too large and fit his Galra hands perfectly. He flipped the safety off and felt more than saw the sudden panic in Keith's face. "Don't just go shooting it off in here! You'll alert the whole ship!" 

Lance laughed at Keith's words as he flipped the safety back on. "Relax. I just wanted to see where it was." He propped the gun up on his shoulder other hand resting on his hip. "I know my way around a gun, thank you very much."

Keith sighed and let his face fall back into it's normal scowl. "I'll make sure you get as close to the lion as possible, but you have to trust me."

"The lion is here? In this ship?" Lance felt his voice pitch high. What if he could bring the lion back! Maybe they could end the war right away!

"That's what I just said." Lance could hear the venom in Keith's voice.

"I-I know. I'll do what you say, for now," Lance said, the last portion under his breath, but he saw Keith's ear twitch to indicate he'd heard.

"Just shut your mouth, stand two paces behind me and say the pledge when prompted," the Galra hissed. His eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter for a second before dimming once more as he turned away.

"I'm sorry. I'm very grateful for your help. You will be much rewarded when I return," Lance said standing up tall before inclining his head graciously. 

Lance almost missed the eyeroll as Keith punched the panel to open the door.

Walking behind Keith was oddly comforting. He led the way, pace quick but unhurried. Soldiers stopped and saluted when they got off the lift, guards stepped aside and Lance wondered what position Keith had on the ship. He'd never thought about that before. It hadn't even crossed his mind that Keith might be someone important. Why would an important person feed a single prisoner kept locked away in a prison cell?

Keith led them to the hangar door and Lance glanced past him, heart pounding in his ears as he saw - the blue lion. Lance felt his stomach plummet at the blue shimmering barrier that wrapped the lion in a protective cocoon. He wanted to ask, words spilling over themselves in his mind, but Keith walked forward, saluting the man standing by the control panel.

"Commander," Keith said and clipped his heels and Lance scrambled to mimic the movement the best he could, heart still clutched in his throat. Why was Blue here? Where was Black? What the quiznak had happened?

"Lieutenant," the commander replied and didn't lift his head up from the readings on the panels in front of him.

"I have a message from Commander Sendak. He needs you up on the bridge as soon as possible," Keith's voice was smooth as silk even as his hand inched toward his side. Lance felt the gun suddenly heavy at his hip.

The moment burst as alarms flared to life all around. The high pitched wailing filling the large space as the lights dimmed a bit taking on a orange glow. The Commander twirled around just as Keith shoved a sword through his chest. The movement was calculated, slightly off kilter, the sudden shift in the Commander's pose causing him to slice through the stomach instead of the heart as he had aimed. Keith clamped his hand around the Galra's mouth, his eyes bulging out of his head, surprise mixing into fury as he fell. Keith twisted once. The man slumped forward and lay still. 

There was so much blood. It had splattered the console, it soaked Keith's boots, his hand had left distinct red markings in the purple fur over the commander's face. Lance felt his guts turn. He'd never seen that much blood; it soaked the floor pooling around the - corpse - red, thick, gooey. Keith lowered the man down and wiped his hands on the fallen commander's coat, avoiding the spilled blood as he placed his hand on the control panel. 

Lance flinched as the doors behind him started to close.

"We need to hurry now," Keith said, eyes on the screen. "Can you fly that thing?" 

"It's the Blue Lion!" Lance managed to gasp out as he quickly stepped away from the growing pool of red oozing from the lifeless body.

"Yes," Keith said and did something to the panel before thrusting his sword through it causing it to short circuit, sealing them in.

There was still blood over the sword, dripping along the blade edge, so red. 

The siren wailed in the distance, slowly filtering through the din in Lance's ears. He doubled over and retched, his half digested dinner splattering across the tiles.

"What," Keith twisted around, eyes wide, ears pulled back as he watched Lance. "What are you doing? You need to get the lion to work. You're Altean! Make it work!"

Lance heaved and nothing came out. Everything swam in his vision and his eyes watered only to spot the body again. There was a hand on his back, guiding him away, the sword. Where had the sword come from? It was red. Why was everything red? 

Lance pulled himself straighter, still feeling light headed; sick.

Blue was close. Lance could feel her eyes on him as they walked forward.

"Make it work," Keith muttered under his breath just as something hit and sizzled near the hangar doors. They watched as something rammed into it again leaving a huge dent on their side. "That won't keep them for long."

"I don't know how it works." Lance's voice was weak, barely there as he looked up at the huge robot cat. 

"What?" Keith's voice was too loud. "It's your cat! Make it work! You can lower the barrier can't you? Just tell it you're taking it back home or something! Make it work!"

"It only listens to it's Paladin. Where is the Blue Paladin, Keith? Where is she?" Lance felt his breath stutter and his heart throbbed in his chest.

"She--she's gone Lance," Keith's voice came from far away, all the sounds were dull. Lance felt his vision wobble darkness swallowing up his peripheral.

There was a sharp sting on his cheek and the helmet clattered away from his head. Keith grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Do not faint on me! You will make the Lion work! You will fly it out of here! You will not die here you fucking asshole! I just ruined myself for you, you will not die here!" The words flooded over Lance and he stumbled forward as Keith thrust him toward the Lion. Lance looked at the blue barrier. It wouldn't let him through. It couldn't. It would only do that for the Blue Paladin. It was hopeless. He would die. Keith would die.

The barrier shattered and he fell face first onto the ground. There was a warmth that flooded through him and a purr, a deep rumbling into the very core of his being as Blue marked him as her own. He looked up, vision clearing as the Lion knelt before him, submitting. Lance pulled himself up to his knees watching the lion, mouth hanging slightly open in awe.

There was a sharp gasp behind him and Lance twisted around to see Keith heave a huge sigh of relief and turning around, sword in hand. "Take the lion and get out!" Keith shouted across his shoulder as the hangar door rattled, the middle bending and cracking. It wouldn't hold for much longer.

"I'm not," Lance shouted and his voice broke leaving him gasping for air. "I'm not going to leave you here! I got Blue working! We can run away!"

"They'll be through that in a minute. I'll buy you some time to get to the bay door and escape." Keith's voice was cold, calculating. He wasn't truly listening to Lance anymore his full focus on the troops hammering through the door.

Lance growled and his Galra vocal cords made it sound dark and menacing. Blue rumbled in agreement and lowered her head allowing Lance to stalk inside.

"I know what you can do, Blue," Lance said. "Teach me." A warmth spread through his very core, once again.

"Let's save that arrogant prick."

Blue hummed and the console came to life around him. He'd seen the lions in action countless times and he'd always dreamed of sitting in one; like every other boy and girl in the peaceful republic. Not so peaceful anymore, Lance lamented as the Lion rose to her feet. 

The hangar door shattered; shrapnel blowing through into the large space. Lance could see Keith, standing in front of the Lion, alone, sword in hand, waiting as a troop of guards smashed through the wreckage.

There was a cry and Lance let Blue fall on top of the robot soldiers. He had a moment to smirk at the bewildered look on Keith's face, before Blue lowered her muzzle and opened her jaw and Keith was gone.

"Good girl," Lance patted the Lion. "Now let's get out of here." He thrust the controls to full throttle and opening the Lion's maw, blasting through the bay door. The vacuum of space was instantaneous, pulling at everything that wasn't bolted down. Blue slid toward the opening and Lance let her jump into the air and fly forward as bits and pieces of the surrounding ship tinged against the lion's sides and back. They flew through and space opened up around them. Space filled with a fleet of spaceships.

"Fuck!" Lance felt the shout leave his bruised throat - a bit too loud - and blue growled in agreement opening her mouth and roaring at the smaller crafts as she thrust forward from the insides of the flagship. Blue was fast, faster than the clumsy cruisers, but they had long range guns and they weren't afraid to use them as energy blasts made the darkness of space white and crackling with energy. They dodged and parried and swirled around the ships, using some as springing boards as they lashed out with claws and tail and blaster.

"We need to run, we need to run, we need to run," was the mantra that Lance settled on as sweat clung to his back, arms aching, muscles tense, unforgiving. They slipped through the last ships blocking the way and only a few dared to follow in the confusion that followed their escape.

Lance pushed down on the transmitter and screamed: "Father! Allura! Anybody!" The desperation ripped from his body, his months worth of anguish and dread spilling into the words that he yelled into the void as they ran, the Galra hot on their tail - literally.

**Author's Note:**

> Still wallowing in klance hell. Forever more.
> 
> Find me at [tumblr](http://bluphacelia.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/blu_tweets).


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